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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23561938">We'll Make Our Homes On The Water</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Memories_of_the_Shadows/pseuds/Memories_of_the_Shadows'>Memories_of_the_Shadows</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Teen Wolf (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Dysfunctional Family, Eavesdropping, Emissary Stiles Stilinski, Family Feels, Family Issues, Gen, Headcanon, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Lack of Communication, Pack Building, Pack Dynamics, Pre-Slash, Spark Stiles Stilinski, Talking, pre-Sterek - Freeform</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-04-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-04-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 18:41:54</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,482</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23561938</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Memories_of_the_Shadows/pseuds/Memories_of_the_Shadows</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Emotions are messy, complicated things, that make things difficult.  Even more so if you don't talk about them.  So, sometimes you just have to... <i>talk</i>.  Even though it hurts.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Derek Hale &amp; Peter Hale, Derek Hale &amp; Stiles Stilinski, Laura Hale &amp; Peter Hale, Peter Hale &amp; Stiles Stilinski</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>68</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>We'll Make Our Homes On The Water</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Title is from "Sons and Daughters" by the Decemberists.</p><p>TW: for discussion of Kate's canonical actions with Derek, nothing explicit, although the r-word is used.</p><p>I do not consent to my work being hosted on any unofficial apps, especially any with ad revenue and subscription services, or any website other than ao3 unless I personally cross-posted a work.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“What do you want me to say?” Peter asks, right before Stiles walks through the door, his hand just brushing the doorknob, and, yeah, Stiles wants nothing to do Creeperwolf when he’s pulling out <i>that</i> tone of voice.</p><p>“Just… anything!  You should have <i>felt</i> her, Peter, and you still killed her!”  That’s Derek shouting--Derek, who barely ever speaks, let alone raises his voice--and Stiles really, <i>really</i> wants to disappear so they won’t notice him.  Derek is intimidating enough with the pushing up against walls and steering wheels and the <i>eyebrows</i>.</p><p>Peter doesn’t say anything for a long time, and Stiles wonders if he can sneak away unnoticed.  Then, “there weren’t any pack bonds.”  Yeah, okay, Stiles has to know.</p><p>“Wh-What?”  Derek sounds thrown, and his voice is small.</p><p>Someone sighs, it sounds like Peter.  “There.  Weren’t.  Any.  Pack.  Bonds.  Derek,” he says, sounding almost like his normal condescending self.</p><p>“How did you even <i>survive</i>?”  There’s an appropriate amount of horror in the statement.  Stiles is still learning, but even he gets how important pack is.  Considering what he found out about Peter’s condition, it’s probably something along the lines of what he did to come back after Derek killed him.</p><p>“I was still on Hale land,” Peter says, and he sounds almost human, almost vulnerable.  Stiles doesn’t move.  He’s pretty sure if he moves <i>now</i>, they’ll realize he’s there.  “I anchored myself in thoughts of revenge and protecting that land, the only thing I had left of my family.  It wasn’t enough to help me heal, but it was enough to keep me alive.”</p><p>“I-I--  Laura was--  she said you <i>hated</i> her.  I remember you were always fighting,” Derek says, still small, confused.  Stiles hates it.  Sourwolves shouldn’t sound like that.  Peter snorts, and it sounds bitter.</p><p>“We were born a month apart, Derek, we grew up together.  I couldn’t hate her.  I was <i>jealous</i>.  Talia tried, but after mother and father died, and she had James and you, and then Jonathan and Cora, she didn’t have time for <i>me</i>.  But she always had time for <i>Laura</i>.  That’s why we fought.”  Peter’s voice fades, like he moves into another room, but it still sounds wistful.  “I thought she knew that.”  The tap runs in the kitchen.</p><p>“But, her smell, she still <i>smelled</i> like Laura,” Derek says, lost.  Stiles definitely feels like an intruder.  Peter huffs, voice coming back into focus and liquid sloshing in a couple of glasses.</p><p>“I told Talia that she should have been teaching you all like mother taught us.  Derek, scents <i>change</i> like people <i>change</i>.  She still smelled like Laura to you because you were with her.  To me, she was just another lone wolf invading my territory.  She didn’t even flash eyes at me, I had no idea she was an alpha until I got the spark.”</p><p>Derek’s whine is low and confused and Stiles <i>hurts</i> for the both of them.  He can’t even imagine it, losing everyone like that, all at once.  “<i>Why</i>?  Isn’t there <i>anything</i> you could have done?  It was Laura, Uncle Peter.  <i>Laura</i>.  How could you?”</p><p>Peter doesn’t talk, doesn’t whine or growl, and the silence stretches.  Stiles thinks he knows the answer.  Know thy enemy and all that.  Getting Peter’s medical files was easy enough to do when he has an open invitation to visit Melissa at work.  “Derek,” Peter says finally, sounding tired and still more sympathetic and like a <i>person</i> than Stiles ever thought he could.  Especially since Peter tries to sound more like a Creeperwolf constantly.  “I--”  He sounds like he doesn’t want to say more.  Derek growls.  “I know you don’t want to hear this, I know you think it’s an excuse, but I was mad with grief.  I don’t even remember most of it.  I was half a step from being an <i>omega</i>, sick and blind with the pain.  I didn’t have any pack left and in the few moments of clarity I had, I  remember thinking that <i>everyone</i>, you and Laura included, were <i>dead</i>.  So, no.  There was <i>nothing</i> I could have done.”</p><p>Stiles thinks back to the first time he really met Peter, begging him not to kill Lydia, just a vulnerable human, not even a banshee.  Not that any of them knew that about Lydia at the time.  Remembers that Peter laughed and postured, but still <i>left</i> without doing more than pushing Stiles away.  Actually, he hadn’t been all that dangerous to anyone <i>except</i> those he blamed for the fire.  Even Lydia wasn’t hurt badly in the end, even though it <i>looked</i> bad.</p><p>Given how Scott obsesses over <i>his</i> anchor, Stiles can understand how Peter might have had a bit of a one track mind when it came to his revenge.</p><p>Still, Derek doesn’t say anything, just whines.  Stiles imagines him like his neighbor’s dog, ears flicked back and crouched low to the ground, and he kind of wants to pet him and make him more comfortable.</p><p>Peter sighs again, and the couch groans like it has too much weight on it after a minute.  “This is about Paige, still.”  Stiles doesn’t know that name, although… there was that girl that appeared with Derek a few times in one of his earlier yearbooks that Stiles looked through trying to get more information.  She <i>might</i> have been named Paige.  When she didn’t show up again, Stiles just dismissed her, but that was probably a mistake if she’s important enough to bring up during this emotional blood-letting.</p><p>“I can’t trust anything you say,” Derek says, stiff and closed off, sounding much more normal, and that’s a terrible thought.</p><p>“I know.”  There’s a moment of heavy breathing, like one of them is trying not to sob.  Stiles really wishes he wasn’t here right now.  Nosy as he can be, this sounds like something he shouldn’t know about.  “That’s why you didn’t say anything about Kate,” Peter says, sounding emotionally distant.</p><p>“I loved her.  I thought… it was real.  For me.”</p><p>Peter snarls, growling low in the back of his throat.  “It was statutory <i>rape</i>.  She was a <i>hunter</i>.”</p><p>Derek whispers, low enough that Stiles almost doesn’t hear him, “I meant Paige, uncle.”</p><p>“Of course she loved you.  With the way you spoke about her…  I made a mistake and the both of you paid the price for that.  Talia made sure I knew that.”</p><p>“She still died.  Everyone died.  Except for you.”  And Stiles <i>knows</i> exactly what that feels like, like being left behind because they don’t love you enough to live.  There’s been times when he’s thought the same about his mom, angry and hurt that she forgot him, didn’t try hard enough to stay for him or his dad.  It’s stupid, irrational, but love is like that.  “I thought I was broken…”</p><p>“Oh.”  Peter sounding even the least bit surprised is <i>not</i> normal, Creeperwolf seems to have a vested interest in making everyone believe he is omniscient rather than just nosier than even Stiles can manage.  “I thought… Laura might not have even known I was alive.”  <i>Peter</i> whines, low but long, and the couch creaks again.</p><p>“Why would she break the pack bonds?  Why take me and not you, if neither one of us had bonds?” Derek asks.  Peter doesn’t answer.  But, Stiles remembers his father working for an entire week with the fire department trying to clear the Hale House.  The file on the fire didn’t even have a confirmed death count until a month after his dad mentioned not being able to find Laura Hale.  Peter was only checked into the hospital by the Beacon Hills PD three days after the fire according to his file.  Stiles is pretty sure Peter is right and she <i>didn’t</i> know.</p><p>“I’ve--  It's happened before.  Losing so many, you know it hurts, nephew.  Becoming Alpha at the same time… some of them think they’ll be better off without the bonds.  If it hurts that much.  It wouldn’t take much to break them at that point.”  Stiles knows he’s dead if they catch him, and honestly, he’s not sure why they haven’t.  What happened to those vaunted werewolf supersenses?  But he’s <i>positive</i> that moving will only hasten his inevitable death by werewolf so he’s staying put.  Maybe they’ll go out the window and he can leave?  Werewolves seem to love windows.  Stiles doesn’t think he’s ever seen one of them use a door.</p><p>“She never said,” Derek says.  “We were in New York for years.  Shouldn’t it have, I don’t know, fixed itself?”</p><p>Peter laughs, hoarse and bitter, sounding closer to the crazy Alpha he was than the irritating Creeperwolf he’s been recently.  “Derek, we Hales have a major flaw when it comes to forming pack bonds,” he says and the sarcasm cuts like a knife.</p><p>“Don’t do that.  Don’t say it like that.”</p><p>“How else am I supposed to say it?  It didn’t start with you.  My mother, Talia, Laura: if I had to guess, the entire line of alphas we’ve ever had were reticent to the point of absurdity, all of them thinking that because we can smell each other’s emotions and hear each other’s lies that words don’t matter.”  They growl at each other, and what sounds like a scuffle breaks out.  “That’s what this is, Derek.  I don’t want to be another one in a long line of Hales who dies without saying what I feel.  And you know, if you really want a pack with humans in it, they don’t have that crutch.  <i>They</i> can’t tell how you feel by smell.  Honestly, your little troupe of turneds can’t either.”</p><p>“I’m not going to offer Stiles the Bite,” Derek grumbles, and Stiles doesn’t want to be a werewolf, but that hurts, man.  He thought they were kind of friends at least.  “And don’t call them ‘turneds’.”</p><p>“Not the point, nephew,” Peter says, sing-song.  “Stiles doesn’t even want the Bite, I already offered.”  Derek growls again, and really, Stiles doesn’t want to be reminded of that, but he’s technically eavesdropping and his dad always says that eavesdroppers don’t get a say in what they hear.  It’s nice that Derek is willing to intimidate his uncle over it though.  “But he <i>is</i> a spark according to Deaton.  And you’ll be needing an emissary sooner rather than later.”  A <i>spark</i>?  Stiles remembers that, but a limited ability with mountain ash is hardly a big deal.  Peter must be on the <i>good</i> wolfsbane.</p><p>“I don’t want him caught up in the Alpha pack business.  I don’t want <i>any</i> of them caught up in that, Peter.”</p><p>“Want or not, they’re your pack.  Better get used to talking about your feelings, Derek.  Got to shore up those bonds somehow.”  Bitter and sarcastic, per normal Peter.  Stiles almost feels bad for the Creeperwolf.  “Besides, they’re all trouble magnets, <i>especially</i> Stiles.  Just you watch, you try and keep them out of it and they will end in even <i>more</i> trouble, just to spite you.”</p><p>It’s quiet and Stiles is almost ready to just chance it and see if he can’t sneak away, when Derek says quietly, “they’re <i>your</i> pack too.  If you want.”</p><p>“I--” Peter starts, scathing, but then he stops.  His “yes” sounds very small, and unsure, but it tugs at something delicate and new in Stiles’ chest.</p><p>There’s a yelp, and another scuffle--the ancient couch that Stiles is fairly sure Derek got out of a dumpster <i>screeching</i> in protest--and Stiles sees his life flash before his eyes as he tries to run.</p><p>They’re werewolves, so even if he <i>hadn’t</i> immediately tripped he’s dead, but being on the ground makes Peter pulling open the door <i>extra</i> intimidating.</p><p>“I didn’t hear anything!  Nothing!  Nope couldn’t hear a single thing,” Stiles says, throwing his hands around his head.  Nothing happens.</p><p>He peeks between his arms at Peter, who has an eyebrow raised.  “Exhibit A: a bratty spark,” he says, smirking, before grabbing Stiles by the back of the neck and shoving him through the door.  Stiles almost runs straight into Derek--which is kind of like running into a brick wall that smells like leather and is made of stubble and eyebrows--something he would normally not have any problem with except he just got caught listening to both of them spilling their guts.  “I think this belongs to you, dear nephew,” Peter simpers, entirely sarcastic, then he saunters off back into the kitchen.</p><p>Stiles fights the urge to stick his tongue out at the man’s back--and congratulates himself on retaining at least a <i>little</i> self-preservation instinct even if it’s never there when he <i>really</i> needs it--and determinedly does not meet Derek’s eyes.</p><p>Derek grunts.  “How did you stay hidden?” he asks instead of immediately killing Stiles, which he really, truly appreciates.  Even though he has no idea.</p><p>“I have no idea.”</p><p>“Ugh, <i>sparks</i>,” Peter yells from the kitchen.</p><p>“Ugh, <i>Creeperwolves</i>,” Stiles yells back.</p><p>When he looks back, Derek’s face twitches like he’s trying not to smile.  (At least, that’s what Stiles <i>thinks</i> is happening.  Werewolves can’t get seizures, so….)  “We’ll figure it out later,” he says, and presses his wrist to Stiles’ awkwardly for a second.</p><p>Stiles stares at him, absolutely blue-screened.  “Oh my god, dude, did you just <i>scent</i> me!?” comes out of his mouth in a burst of incredulousness and awkward that-actually-felt-kind-of-nice-what-is-happening-to-me.  Derek frowns.</p><p>“Don’t call me ‘dude’.”  They stare at each other for a moment before Derek looks away, blushing.  “…no,” he says, very unconvincingly but also very stoically.</p><p>“You totally did!”  And, normally, Stiles would stop there, or tease a bit more.  But he just listened to Peter tell Derek that he needs bonds, and that the only way to make them healthy and good and everything that Stiles has wanted since he <i>found out about them</i> is to talk.  To tell how he feels.</p><p>Maybe, <i>trust</i>, even if Peter didn’t say it like that.</p><p>So he looks down at his wrist and says, “my mom used to do that when she would put perfume on.  I always wanted her to put some on me too.  Uhhh, sunflowers I think it was called.  I remember the box was yellow.  Dad helped me buy it for her for Christmas every year.”  He smiles at his hands, because it doesn’t hurt like he thought it would to talk about her.</p><p>Derek, when he gets up the courage to look, looks <i>intense</i>, like he’s trying to memorize something.  Peter yells again from the kitchen, “Derek!  Oh, <i>Derek</i>, my dear, wonderful Alpha, who <i>knows</i> better and <i>will</i> be waiting a month or so, you are needed.  In the kitchen.  Right now.”</p><p>Stiles isn’t quite sure why that makes Derek go tomato red underneath all that stubble, but he still laughs at the way Derek rushes off.</p><p>The gossamer thread in his chest, what Stiles guesses is a pack bond, warms and tightens like a hug.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I wrote this a long while ago, and was re-reading it in a fit of Hale family feels.  Turns out that it's not nearly as bad as I thought it was, and after a few touch-ups I decided to post it!  I hope everyone likes it.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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